God Bless The Wicked

                Flying over the streets of this infected city is my only refuge from reality, the
only thing that actually makes me feel like I am truly “Human”. In fact, it is the only
thing that makes me “Feel”. There is something about hanging out of a helicopter
door, miles above the surface while traveling 100’s of miles per hour that heightens
the hairs on my neck. With my eyes closed, I can actually see… I can smell the fresh
untainted oxygen above these clouds in this brisk winter night; and right when I
feel removed from this flesh bag of a vessel in this forsaken realm of debauchery,
my pilot re –enters the atmosphere of our be-loved New York City. The stench of
the homeless defiling my nostrils, fossil fuel fumes polluting my lungs, the repulsive
sight of these vermin on the street corners selling poison to one another, and the
infected scavenging to find used medicine capsules in hopes of being cured of a
virus that has no cure. It’s sickening, but like a reality television show, no matter
how much it disgusts you you can't turn away. It’s entertainment to some degree. It
brings me amusement watching them attempt to survive when they simply cannot.

I assume there is a disturbance in the medical sector seeing that we re-
entered this retched atmosphere. After taking a deep breath due to frustration, I
put my ear piece back in and turn my radio back on; only to hear the rants of the
operator calling my unit for dispatch to the medical sector, as I assumed. It’s the
Ross burg again. Five infected heavily, armed shots fired and officers down. I must
not have made my presence felt heavily enough in this sector of my region. I tell
my pilot to hover over the vicinity til’ I radio him for a pick up. Still a mile above
the surface, I place my vaporizer on and plumed to the surface. The wind blowing
through my hair was like a sweet escape. Death and I dance as I spiral to the bottom.
Death knows He is my brother, nothing more can be between He &I …nothing
more… as I laugh to my self I think, these humans are brave, foolish... but brave none
the less. I land on the Concrete with a thunderous sound that echoed throughout the
city block, Death departs me once again, our dance was short this time, I enjoy His
company. The infected know that I have arrived, streetlights flicker on the block,
blinds close and apartment lights turn off as I rise. The ground cracked beneath my
feet, I am reminded that they dubbed us Demons for a reason.